


Everything I Do is Stitched With Its Color

by al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons



Series: The Fisherman AU Series [4]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, David Rose is a Good Person, Grief/Mourning, Just alluded to not depicted, M/M, Minor Character Death, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose, Trigger warning for mentions of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons/pseuds/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons
Summary: Grief was a long, dark road, and all David could do was hold on tightly and let Patrick know he didn’t have to navigate it alone.Or, Patrick loses someone close to him and David helps him through it.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: The Fisherman AU Series [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649650
Comments: 41
Kudos: 128





	Everything I Do is Stitched With Its Color

**Author's Note:**

> Very quickly written and not edited; any mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Title from the poem “Separation” by W.S. Merwin: 
> 
> Your absence has gone through me  
> Like thread through a needle.  
> Everything I do is stitched with its color.

David stepped out the door, pulling his cardigan more tightly around himself and squinting into the early evening semidarkness. 

He spotted his husband standing at the edge of the property, staring off into the water, hands tucked into his pockets. David sighed, silently picking his way across the yard towards him. 

It wasn’t surprising that Patrick needed to duck out for a breather. The Brewer home was full to bursting with what seemed like half the population of Peggy’s Cove on top of every member of Patrick’s extended family. It would be overwhelming even for outgoing, family-oriented Patrick on the best of days. And this was far from the best of days. 

“Hey,” David called quietly before placing a hand gently on Patrick’s back. He was moving around his spouse gently, tentatively, like he was a wild animal that might be easily spooked. 

Patrick cleared his throat, turning away slightly and wiping his face on the sleeve of his jacket. “Hi,” he replied, his voice thick with recently-shed tears and his eyes rimmed with red. 

“Are you okay?” David asked, then cringed internally, knowing he already knew the answer. 

But Patrick sniffled and nodded resolutely for a moment, then shook his head, his face crumpling. 

“Oh god, honey. I know. I know.” David pulled Patrick towards him, wrapping his arms around him and tucking his face into his neck, and held him as he shook gently with sobs. David pressed a kiss to his unruly curls, rubbing soothing circles across his back and making vaguely comforting murmuring sounds. They stood like that for a few minutes, the light fading faster and the sound of waves crashing nearby the only sound aside from Patrick’s expression of grief. 

It broke David’s heart to see him hurting like this and to know there was nothing he could do to speed up the process or make it less painful. Grief was a long, dark road, and all he could do was hold on tightly and let Patrick know he didn’t have to navigate it alone. 

After a few minutes, Patrick pulled back, sniffling and wiping his face roughly with the heels of his hands. “Sorry,” he murmured hoarsely, not meeting David’s eyes. 

David shook his head, cupping Patrick’s face gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead and wiping away the rest of his tears with his thumb. “None of that. You have nothing to apologize for.” David ducked his head slightly, ensuring Patrick would meet his gaze. “Okay?” 

Patrick hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, David. I love you.” 

David smiled crookedly, kissing Patrick on the forehead once again for good measure. “I love you, too,” he responded quietly, settling his hands on Patrick’s broad shoulders. 

“This is nice,” he murmured, running his hands across the worn blue work jacket that Patrick was wearing. His fingers lingered on the embroidered name tag, _Patrick_ stitched there in white cursive letters. 

Patrick shrugged, pulling at a loose thread at the cuff. “My dad said grandpa would want me to have it.” 

David nodded in agreement. “I can’t think of anyone he’d rather it go to.” They stood for a few more minutes, listening to the waves crash as Patrick drew shaky breaths, grounding himself, before they headed back inside, hand-in-hand. 

* * *

David watched with a combination of pride and devastating heartache for his husband as he delivered the eulogy the next day. He spoke beautifully about his grandfather, the man from whom he’d gotten his name and his love of fishing and his teasing sense of humor. He talked about his gentle ways and how he never batted an eye when Patrick came out and how he attended all his baseball games in high school. 

David didn’t know what Patrick was feeling; he’d lost his grandparents, of course, but he hadn’t been as close to them as his husband was to the elder Patrick Brewer. But he felt his own grief for the man he’d grown to know and love over the last few years, the man from whom Patrick had gained so many of his best qualities. It wouldn’t be easy for Patrick, he knew, to navigate life without the man who had anchored him through so much. But David would be there, as he’d vowed, to carry him through the worst of it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t really know where this came from, and I’m sorry for making our boys go through this. But as someone who has dealt a lot with my own grief over the past year or so, it was somewhat cathartic. I’ll try to write something soft and sweet in this universe to make up for it soon


End file.
